employer had sent an avatar, a ghostly presence of blue light. This avatar had discovered Samuel’s hideout, and had come offering a generous contract for, as it turned out, killing a changeling.
If there were any practising magic-users left in Labrys Town, they would keep themselves well hidden through fear of discovery, arrest, execution. Samuel’s employer had to be a magic-user; no one could conjure an avatar unless they were an adept. But things were no longer making sense to the old bounty hunter.
The girl was a changeling, and, as such, to any magic-user who had managed to stay hidden so far, she was worth much more alive than dead. The blood of a changeling was an efficient catalyst for creating powerful spells, yet Samuel had been employed to kill Clara, not harvest her blood. It just didn’t add up.
From the shadows of the tree, Samuel watched as two patrolmen walked along the street towards the police station. The violet light from streetlamps gleamed off their black, bowl-like receptor helmets. They entered the station, removed their helmets, and conversed briefly with the duty sergeant before wandering off further into the building – probably ending their shifts for the night.
Samuel was caught by indecision, an unfamiliar state for him. He knew what he had to do next, but it was difficult for him to accept it. He struggled to believe what he had witnessed. Perhaps he was mistaken. He closed his eyes and once more replayed events in his head.
Marney was shot by an ice-bullet. Golems claimed her frozen body and dragged it through a portal. On the other side of the portal, in a chamber bathed in silver light, a man stood watching. There was some kind of plant or tree behind him. He wore a dark cassock. His hair was long and white; his skin almost as pale as an albino’s. In Samuel’s memory, his face was serious, but there was a smile on his lips, as slight as it was grim. He appeared ageless, looking exactly as he had when he had last been seen in Labrys Town. He was absolutely the man Samuel remembered from a long time ago. But it just couldn’t be him. That man had died during the Genii War.
A snapping sound fizzed in the damp air, accompanied by the squeal of metal on metal. The old bounty hunter opened his eyes to see a tram pulling up outside the police building. It had a large square of dull silver riveted to its side. As Samuel looked at the symbol, he felt his resolve hardening.
The trams of Labrys Town were uniform, their bulky bodies painted a bland cream colour. But this tram was sleek and utterly black. Its windows were tinted so dark that it was impossible to see inside. The silver square on the side was the only decoration, and Samuel knew well what it represented.
A door slid open. A lone man disembarked and closed the door behind him. He stood before the police building. He was a small man, elderly, dressed in a smart suit and tie. He looked over in Samuel’s general direction and gave a sardonic smile. Samuel swore and stepped further behind the tree. The elderly man then entered the police station, and the duty sergeant jumped to his feet as though he had been shocked.
Samuel looked at the spirit compass in his hand. With a calming breath, he screwed on the cap and slipped the device into his coat pocket. He no longer needed it to keep tabs on the girl.
He knew exactly where she was headed next.
Clara was hungry and her throat was parched. She had thought about asking for some food and water, but she doubted she could keep it in her stomach even if the guards obliged her. Still in handcuffs, she sat in a cell upon a thin mattress on a bunk. Her clothes were drying, but they smelt rank and musty.
The only light in the cell was the dull red glow of the moon coming through a small barred window, high on the wall. It looked as though the sky was clearing.
On the opposite wall was a second bunk. A large figure lay beneath the covers, difficult to make out in the cell’s
If there were any practising magic-users left in Labrys Town, they would keep themselves well hidden through fear of discovery, arrest, execution. Samuel’s employer had to be a magic-user; no one could conjure an avatar unless they were an adept. But things were no longer making sense to the old bounty hunter.
The girl was a changeling, and, as such, to any magic-user who had managed to stay hidden so far, she was worth much more alive than dead. The blood of a changeling was an efficient catalyst for creating powerful spells, yet Samuel had been employed to kill Clara, not harvest her blood. It just didn’t add up.
From the shadows of the tree, Samuel watched as two patrolmen walked along the street towards the police station. The violet light from streetlamps gleamed off their black, bowl-like receptor helmets. They entered the station, removed their helmets, and conversed briefly with the duty sergeant before wandering off further into the building – probably ending their shifts for the night.
Samuel was caught by indecision, an unfamiliar state for him. He knew what he had to do next, but it was difficult for him to accept it. He struggled to believe what he had witnessed. Perhaps he was mistaken. He closed his eyes and once more replayed events in his head.
Marney was shot by an ice-bullet. Golems claimed her frozen body and dragged it through a portal. On the other side of the portal, in a chamber bathed in silver light, a man stood watching. There was some kind of plant or tree behind him. He wore a dark cassock. His hair was long and white; his skin almost as pale as an albino’s. In Samuel’s memory, his face was serious, but there was a smile on his lips, as slight as it was grim. He appeared ageless, looking exactly as he had when he had last been seen in Labrys Town. He was absolutely the man Samuel remembered from a long time ago. But it just couldn’t be him. That man had died during the Genii War.
A snapping sound fizzed in the damp air, accompanied by the squeal of metal on metal. The old bounty hunter opened his eyes to see a tram pulling up outside the police building. It had a large square of dull silver riveted to its side. As Samuel looked at the symbol, he felt his resolve hardening.
The trams of Labrys Town were uniform, their bulky bodies painted a bland cream colour. But this tram was sleek and utterly black. Its windows were tinted so dark that it was impossible to see inside. The silver square on the side was the only decoration, and Samuel knew well what it represented.
A door slid open. A lone man disembarked and closed the door behind him. He stood before the police building. He was a small man, elderly, dressed in a smart suit and tie. He looked over in Samuel’s general direction and gave a sardonic smile. Samuel swore and stepped further behind the tree. The elderly man then entered the police station, and the duty sergeant jumped to his feet as though he had been shocked.
Samuel looked at the spirit compass in his hand. With a calming breath, he screwed on the cap and slipped the device into his coat pocket. He no longer needed it to keep tabs on the girl.
He knew exactly where she was headed next.
Clara was hungry and her throat was parched. She had thought about asking for some food and water, but she doubted she could keep it in her stomach even if the guards obliged her. Still in handcuffs, she sat in a cell upon a thin mattress on a bunk. Her clothes were drying, but they smelt rank and musty.
The only light in the cell was the dull red glow of the moon coming through a small barred window, high on the wall. It looked as though the sky was clearing.
On the opposite wall was a second bunk. A large figure lay beneath the covers, difficult to make out in the cell’s
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